


Match

by pollitt



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Let's Get Gay Married Commentfic Meme, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-11
Updated: 2011-07-11
Packaged: 2017-10-21 06:25:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pollitt/pseuds/pollitt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"A piece of metal isn't what makes two people married, Sgt. Donovan"</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Match

**Author's Note:**

> Written for bree_black's ["Let's get gay married!"](http://bree-black.livejournal.com/84411.html) commentfic meme.
> 
> Prompt: _They don't wear rings. They don't do public displays of affection. They keep their surnames. So when Sherlock claims to be John's husband, everyone assumes he's lying so he can [visit him in hospital | visit him in jail | invoke spousal privilege in court | some other scurrilous reason] So John has to prove it._
> 
> Thank you to Maverick for the late-night/early morning beta.

“I didn’t realize it was possible for one person to be so utterly and completely intransigent as you are right now, _Sally_. But you have proven me wrong beyond comprehension.” Sherlock spun on his toes after having made a complete circuit from the chairs on both sides of the hallway to the door of the hospital room where Sgt. Donovan was currently standing with her arms crossed.

“You actually expect me to buy that Dr. Watson would be so simple minded as to marry you, freak?” Donovan’s arm shot out, the palm of her hand slapping against the door frame to block Sherlock’s attempt to move past her. “Where’s your wedding ring then? And I’ve never seen you two making eyes at one another.”

“A simple piece of metal isn’t what makes two people married. And as for the ‘making eyes,’ two people can care greatly for one another, can work together, without it being glaringly obvious what happens behind closed doors. It’s called discretion,” Sherlock said, his hands buttoning and unbuttoning his suit coat.

He looked down at the blood-stained shirt underneath and turned a greenish pale. Even Donovan wasn’t so heartless that she didn’t feel a twinge bad for the man. Delusional madman or not, he still had his friend’s blood on him, literally.

“How come you’ve never mentioned it until now? You’ve said some mad things, but I think this takes the top spot.”

“Sergeant Donovan,” Sherlock’s voice was as calm as anything. The live wire energy that had been radiating off of him since they’d arrived at the hospital was nowhere to be seen. It was like he’d become another man. A normal man.

Sherlock took a deep breath and continued. “If you would please just allow me into John’s room, this whole thing could be cleared up in no time at all.”

“I can’t. There are rules--hospital rules, laws. And I’m merely a sergeant. When Inspector Lestrade arrives we can clear this all up in a civilized manner.”

Sherlock’s eyes hardened and the muscles in his jaws twitched. He didn’t say anything for several long seconds, and Donovan could swear she could see the gears in his mind turning. Coming up with something to say.

“Please,” he finally said at last. “You can ask him yourself. I won’t attempt any unlawful entry until you’ve done an interrogation. I won’t even register a complaint with Lestrade regarding your immovable position and dubiousness to my claim.”

“Fine.” She was tired of fighting, and to be honest, she was curious. Sherlock story hadn’t moved so much as a millimeter and Donovan wanted to know the truth. “Just... wait.”

Sherlock nodded and she turned and went through the door into the hospital room.

Watson was the only patient in the room--a benefit of being shot in the progress of a case and being a material witness in said case, the crown put in a little extra so you didn’t have to deal with some weird roommate as you recovered.

There were bandages over his shoulder, and his face was a bit pale and drawn, but the painkillers that were no doubt in the IV bag next to his bed were helping to soften his features.

“Doctor Watson?” Donovan asked, watching as the doctor’s eyes opened and fell on her. She wasn’t expecting them to be so clear, not after the night he’d been through--shot clear through the shoulder, a ride to the hospital, and surgery--but then she remembered he’d been in war.

“Sergeant Donovan,” Watson replied dryly. “Where’s Sherlock?”

“He’s outside.” Donovan stood just to the side of Watson’s bed, looking at him and trying to imagine _him_ married to Sherlock. She crossed her arms and continued. “He’s claiming that you and him... He’s saying the rules for visitors don’t apply to him ‘cause he’s your spouse. He’s gone completely ‘round the bend, but he’s not let up for the last hour and I’m tired of listening to him. And god knows when Inspector Lestrade’s going to arrive.”

“I see,” he said, and then he pointed at his wallet that was resting atop a rolling cart just out of arm’s length. “If you would just hand me that please.”

Donovan brought it over to him. He opened it onto his chest and reached inside, producing a folded piece of paper, which he handed to her.

“This should be what you’re looking for.”

Donovan unfolded the paper and read--Certificate of Marriage. Official seal. Made out to one Sherlock Holmes and one Doctor John Watson. Her eye caught the signatures for the witnesses... Mycroft Holmes and G. Lestrade.

“If you could please send my husband in--” There was a catch in the doctor’s throat that Donovan suspected had nothing to do with the pain or his medication. “on your way out, I would greatly appreciate it.”

With that she was dismissed.

Sherlock was pacing again when she returned to the hallway. He stopped when he saw her.

“Well?”

She didn’t answer him. She held the door open and made a sweeping gesture toward the room.

He was through the door before she could fully register that he’d started moving.

Whether it was morbid curiosity or because she was still trying to wrap her mind around the idea, Donovan wasn’t certain. Whatever it was, she couldn’t help herself. She looked through the window of the hospital room door. She couldn’t hear what was said, but she could observe.

Sherlock sat down on the edge of the bed. He curved his hand around the side of Watson’s face and Donovan could see Watson’s expression change, how he leaned into Sherlock’s touch. The doctor’s uninjured arm reached up, his hand curling around Sherlock’s forearm. A moment later she felt like an intruder. She looked away.

She wouldn’t have believed it if she hadn’t seen it with her own eyes, but what she’d seen had been clear. Dr. Watson must have been crazy as well, to marry a man as mad as Sherlock Holmes.

 

 

 **Wee bit of Epilogue**

It wasn't long until Inspector Lestrade arrived. His presence was announced by the electronic chirp of his cell phone.

"Where's Holmes?" Lestrade asked, looking up from his phone and down the opposite end of the corridor.

"He's inside. Having a conjugal visit with his _husband_ ," Donovan said, jerking her head toward the hospital door.

"If that's what you consider a conjugal visit, Sergeant Donovan, then I think you should seriously reconsider your love life," Sherlock commented from the open doorway. "Inspector, John is ready for your questions now."


End file.
